How Gillian Foster Helped Beat The Devil
by LornaCat
Summary: Callian! Gillian's POV during 2x11  Beat The Devil . She finds out what happened to Cal when Martin Walker held him captive. It's too late to take Cal up on his dinner offer, so she goes to his place to comfort him instead.  atths.


**A/N:** Not quite written _for _the McBreezy POV challenge, but in honor of it, at her request: Gillian's thoughts during Beat The Devil, and an alternate aftermath (**ATTHS**!). I've changed a few details, because as much as I love their relationship, I sort of hate some of the personal details the episode tried to push on us. FANON, YEAH!

**A/PSA:** Please don't do drugs, always use protection and stay in school.

**Rated M** for sexual situations, sexual acts and sexual healing.

**Spoilers: **2x11 Beat The Devil

**Summary: **Gillian finds out what happened to Cal when Martin Walker held him captive. It's too late to take him up on his dinner offer, so she goes to his place to comfort him instead.

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><p><strong>[How Gillian Foster Helped] Beat The Devil<strong>

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><p>1.<p>

I went with you to lecture to that class. It was fun. You know what the most fun thing about it was? Seeing you connect with the students, making them laugh, sparking discussion even if they were too shy to speak up. You're so funny, Cal. Sometimes you annoy the living shit out of me, but you are so damn charming when you want to be. Part of it is that you don't care what they think of you. The other part is that you _do _care, about your work and their understanding of it.

I watched her stare at you. No - she _gazed _at you, intermittently, throughout the lecture. She was trying to see the man she'd dumped but she could only see the man she'd fallen in love with. To be honest, she seemed a little jealous, and - (I know, I'm biased) - she should be. She said it herself as she walked us to the lecture hall: she thought you were slumming it, lecturing to her class. No matter how much she wants to believe she was being sarcastic, she believed it herself. No need for facial expressions; her diction said it all. It does help to be the expert sometimes.

I lied to her, and I lied to the dean. I did see what you saw in Martin's eyes. But I knew you'd go after him like a dog with a bone if you thought you were alone in your corner. Is it bad that I egg you on sometimes? Is it even worse that you've never noticed? It's my revenge, spurring you like you spur me sometimes. I think it shocked you, too. Me, denying what should have been so basic a read. He wasn't even trying to hide it. It sickened us both. It made our stomachs turn with the same revulsion he felt toward the picture of that pretty girl. But then I lied and said I didn't see it, because I knew you'd do the right thing anyway. I also felt a great deal of sympathy for Helen; it's humiliating enough, having her affair uncovered by a single shared glance. She wasn't ready to hear that her lover was a psychopath, especially not from you.

So there I was, wrestling with my sympathy and my jealousy while you began your hunt. Yes, I was jealous too. In true female fashion I wanted to kill her before I even met her, so I decided to kill her with kindness. Do you know how hard (and ultimately satisfying) it is to always play both sides? I handed you posters but I didn't say a word about agreeing with you. Not yet.

At the office I kept poking you. I needed to see your reaction. When I said I thought you weren't happy with your replacement, what I really meant was: Do you still care what she does, and do you still care who she sleeps with? To my great relief you could not have given less of a shit. You were sure he would kill again. You wanted to save lives, and that's why I love you.

Then, all of this..._stuff_ happened. We watched the tape. Ria was able to get through to that poor girl. Everything you already knew in your heart to be true was confirmed in the eyes of the law. You baited him, he took you instead, and then he was apprehended.

And like the scared, selfish woman I am, I turned down your request for dinner because I thought it would make things complicated. I thought for a pathetic, fleeting moment that I should take Helen's advice to keep my distance. The second you walked out, I regretted my hasty decision. All you were asking was to spend a little time with your best friend after proving to everyone that you were, as you always are, right all along.

What nobody told me was that you'd died four times that night, by Martin Walker's hands. You didn't tell me he drowned you and brought you back to life. _Four. Times._ I found out later from our dear friend Ben, who clearly telegraphed that it was a mistake once he let it slip. That's when I realized you weren't just asking for a quick bite. You were asking for company after a harrowing ordeal, and whether you needed a trusted, sympathetic ear or just someone to distract you from the memories, I blew it. I turned you down and I'm sorry and I'm coming over now.

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><p>2.<p>

I didn't plan it, you know. _This_. I'm glad it happened though. I better be, considering the lines we crossed tonight.

I knocked on your door, and you answered all bleary-eyed as if you'd been trying to sleep but couldn't. You couldn't sleep, Cal. How could anyone, after the night you'd had?

_"I'm glad you're alright."_

I can't _believe_ I let you go thinking that was the best I could do, the best I could give you. What kind of lame greeting card B.S. is that? And yet, when you answered the door, and I saw the look in your eyes - that '_Oh crap, she knows. Who told her?'_ look - I reacted with another selfish emotion.

"What the hell, Cal?" I said, waving my arms like I always do when I'm upset. You squinted and blinked, because it was so dark in your house, the street lights were shining in your eyes, and I realized that you'd already been in bed for who knows how long.

"If you're going to hit me," you said, and god _damn it_, does _everything_ have to be a joke with you?

"If you're going to hit me," you said. "Please make it a quick kick to the shins. Everything else already hurts."

You knew I'd fold after that, didn't you? That my insides would crumple like a piece of paper in a pair of angry hands? I could feel my eyes filling with tears, and I felt so stupid because, wasn't it you that went through this? Shouldn't _you _be the one that's upset?

Then you took a tiny step forward and made this little motion with your hands, like you wanted to give me a hug. To comfort me_._

"Come on." you mumbled.

"No." I said, giving you the angry furrowed brow.

"No?" you asked, wounded, your arms still outstretched like a slouching teddy bear.

"Get back in bed." I ordered.

You sighed, and you shuffled with your socked feet and pajama pants and t-shirt and glum expression back to your bed. I followed you, and by the time we got to your bed the anger was gone and the obvious, pertinent questions - Why are you here, and why are you climbing into bed with me? - were not asked. You knew why I was there. To comfort you without being asked. To know, for my own peace of mind, that you were indeed as alright as you wanted me to think you were. To kiss you? Well, no. Not yet.

I tucked you in, and that made you chuckle. That was you indulging me, as I forced you to accept some TLC from a friend. I laid down on the bed next to you, over the covers because under would have been inappropriate, right? OK, maybe I am naïve. I thought maybe we would lay there together until you fell asleep, and then _I'd_ be able to sleep knowing you were safe asleep and, well, we both know I'm a hopeless romantic, should this be a surprise to either of us? You stayed awake, though. Too tired to hide how exhausted you were, too troubled to sleep.

"I was terrified." you finally admitted. "But all I wanted was to hear him admit it. I needed to hear it from him. I kept pushing him even though he had the gun. I was fixating, so I wouldn't have to think about the trouble I'd gotten myself into. I almost left Em without a father. And you. Without a partner."

I touched your face, cradling your jaw in my palms. The look you gave me then - _I'd be lost without you, Gill_._ You'd be lost without me too, right?_ - If I ever thought I had a way out of loving you before, it was gone without a trace after I saw that look. You closed your eyes as I moved closer to kiss your cheek. I kissed it for every time you'd died, but that wasn't enough. So I kissed your temple, the soft corner of your eye, your forehead, your eyelids, your other cheek, and finally your lips. Kiss after kiss you held still for me but when I kissed your lips, you kissed me back. Oops. Except it wasn't an oops at all. It was eureka.

Were you afraid to touch me? Or were you just trapped underneath the blankets at that point?

I swear, I didn't plan this. I was just so worried about you.

We didn't want that kiss to end. Maybe we were afraid of what would happen if we let it end, afraid of facing the consequences. And maybe it was just a really good kiss. No, it was. It was a _great _kiss. It was perfect. I think we use the same toothpaste.

You must have shifted your body, because I heard the covers rustling in this otherwise silent bedroom, and somehow I was on my back and you'd taken one arm out from under the blanket. You were touching my face so tenderly with your finger tips, kissing me and kissing me. So many soft kisses. Like you wanted to get me high before we...

Cal, I love your lips. I love the words they form, and the words they keep inside when all you need is a look to communicate with me. I just...I never knew how much I could love your lips until they were on me, all over my body. The last soft kiss you placed on my lips lingered. You kissed the corner of my mouth, and my cheek, and the spot where the chin officially becomes jaw. With your thumb you pushed up very gently on my chin, so I would bare my neck to your soft kisses.

I was trembling, wasn't I? Is that why you went so easy on me at first?

I was excited, in the physical sense of the word. When your lips left my mouth, those kisses that could have, using the magic of denial, been written off as friendship kisses ceased being friendship kisses and became I'm-going-to-explore-your-entire-body-inch-by-inch kisses. You were going there, and I was allowing it to happen. God, no, not just _allowing _it to happen. I was praying you wouldn't stop.

She said you were insufferable, Cal. If this is suffering then I am heading straight to hell when I die. I'd suffer by your hands forever.

You kissed my neck. I lost count of the number of times you kissed my neck. I was already so turned on by that point I barely had time to react when you touched my waist with your free hand. Curse my analytical mind, but your hand on my waist made me think about the clothes I was wearing. I'd thrown on a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt after work, thinking I wouldn't be leaving the house again before bed.

It wasn't how I imagined it, you know. I thought I'd be wearing one of my sexier outfits, the ones that make your head turn no matter how quickly you're walking down the halls at work. Now, at this point I don't even remember how I got there, but I'm in your bed and you're kissing me and I've basically got a married woman's pajamas on with an old sweater to top it all off. So, even before you hesitated, I started to freak out a little. And then you hesitated, and I started to freak out a lot. Why couldn't you just keep going? I would have already let you do anything, _anything_ at that point. OK, maybe not _that_, but...

Your mouth - your often trouble-making, sometimes rage-inducing but at that particular moment heavenly mouth - left my neck, and then it released a sigh and started communicating with words instead of kisses.

You read panic in my eyes. I wasn't scared of going through with it, Cal. I was afraid you'd kick me out of your bed.

So, you sort of sat yourself up, resting on your elbow, that hand of yours still touching my waist. The way your thumb was stroking the bottom edge of my shirt was _so_ distracting.

"I was about to feel you up." you told me, matter of fact.

"It wouldn't be the first time." I teased you. And why was it so, so easy to tease you in that moment? Because I knew it would make you smile that impish smile.

"Yeah," you replied. "But I was going to squeeze your breast and everything. That would be a new thing, wouldn't it?"

I had no response. All I could do was look at you and it almost felt strange, because it was new, this sort of honesty, and you were really thinking this thing through. I looked at you, and inside I was even more turned on by your hesitation. It showed on my face, I know it did, even in the dark.

"Christ." you muttered, deep in your throat, like I'd ripped your mental clothes off with just a look. Faster than I could think, your lips were on me again, kissing my mouth with the same hunger that makes you chase after every case. It's shameful, how long I'd waited to have that hunger all to myself. It was mine, all mine, we were finally allowing you to express it. Fuck Helen, what does she know? She sits in a classroom all day trying to debunk your work and the first conclusion she jumps to when you find a serial killer in her bed is that you're _jealous_? I would have laughed as I thought about that, but that hunger for me you were expressing reminded me of how, earlier that night, you'd _died. four. times._ and I thought, hell, if we're doing this we should _do_ it, and I should give you the time of your barely saved life.

Your mouth stayed put while your hand wandered, and I thought again of my state of dress when your hand continued its path up my torso and closed around my breast. We both felt it; I was _not _wearing a bra. Suddenly I was glad I came over in my pajamas. You squeezed and kneaded me with your hungry hand and suddenly our bodies weren't close enough. Letting go of my body for a precious few seconds you pushed and kicked the blankets off of your body, desperate to get closer. I grinned at the action and it made you smile, and that's when it hit me, how happy and excited we were. Like two little kids who were finally getting exactly what they wanted.

I can't believe you almost left me tonight. You almost died, and I can't believe I almost let you go to sleep afterward without telling you I love you.

By the way: _I love you._

The blankets were gone, and I moved my legs apart to make room for you as you covered me with your body. I wrapped my legs around your waist, you pressed yourself against me and I _moaned_, because it felt so good and because we'd never been this close before. In my mind, maybe, and in yours, but physically? Never like this.

You teased me with a few soft thrusts, your hand on my breast again, your tongue so far down my throat I thought you might be going down on me. But, no, that wasn't your tongue pressing against me, through two layers of clothing. Just your thin pair of cotton pants and my worn sweats, and good god you were hard. And big. Huge, even. You always have to exceed everyone's expectations, don't you?

If I'm ever going to tell you how I imagined it, and how many times I imagined it, you have to promise not to laugh. It was something like this - you knew exactly what to do, sensitive and intuitive - and yet, in reality, it was better. Your touch was better. Your deep kisses were better. Feeling you everywhere at once, your entire body, every muscle tensed and ready - it was better. You had me pressed into your mattress - how the hell did I even get there? After a certain point I didn't remember or care. You were pushing my t-shirt up, bunching it against my neck, and I tipped my head back as your mouth - as hungry as your hands - covered my breast with wet kisses. You licked me, and I grabbed a fist full of your hair, pulling on it even as my body rose to meet you. Your arm slipped under my arched back and we stayed like that for a while, my body writhing, voice whining, your mouth sucking at me until I remembered what I was there for in the first place.

I pulled on your hair, bringing your mouth back to mine, forcing you to kiss me and kiss me and kiss me. I was about to do something I hadn't bothered doing in a very long time and I needed to build up to it. The look on your face when I finally got you to lay down on your back, it was pleasant surprise. Do I exceed all your expectations? Do I defy them? Do my actions make me dirty, or did you take them in the loving way they were intended? In the moment, none of these questions matter. All that mattered was showing you how I feel, and giving you what you deserve. Every good man deserves a good blow job, especially after a day like the one you had.

Just one thought, as I pulled those cotton pants away from your hips. I wanted you in my mouth and it excited me as much as having you between my legs. I bet it excited you too, you lucky bastard. I made sure to maintain eye contact with you, knowing without asking that it would turn you on more than the act itself.

The look you gave me was the hardest eye fuck I've ever received. From you, I've received plenty. How in the world did we ever convince ourselves we could keep this thing platonic? Maybe you were never convinced. Maybe I wasn't either. Denial is a powerful thing.

After a good while, just when I was starting to debate whether or not to let you finish in my mouth, you propped yourself up on your elbow and had me stop. You had me lay down next to you, and I cleaned the sides of my mouth so we could kiss. It began again, hands all over my body, your lips and tongue following the same path. You didn't stop at my breasts this time, though you certainly lingered there long enough. We took my shirt off together, and have I mentioned I love your mouth?

"Cal, you don't have to-" I began to say, because all of us women are led to believe it's a chore. Not for men like you, though. Oh, the times Helen must have recalled to make her so jealous...

"I have no idea what you're talking about." you dismissed my hesitations outright, because you would have none of that. You were kissing the side of my waist, some detail of my hip bone fascinating you as you pulled on the elastic band of my sweatpants.

"How are you even awake right now?" I asked you. My pants were sliding down my legs. You pulled my underwear down with them, and I settled onto my back, in your bed, as if spreading my legs for you were already a natural occurence and there was time enough for chit chat. Your face was right near my thigh. You kissed me there, the inner part of my leg, reminding me of how sensitive that skin is. Then you looked up at me and said something ridiculously romantic. I don't care if you were joking. That quip made me as wet as I got going down on you.

You said "I think this is what I came back to life for." and I stared at your eyes, trying to read them in the dark. Then you lowered your head, and mine fell back onto the bed.

Alright, so you learned something about me tonight. My go-to exclamation when I am feeling an _immense_ amount of pleasure is..."Oh my god." And maybe I say it way too much. To the point of making you laugh, unable to continue. Insert smirk here; I'm glad you were having so much fun down there. I got control of my words, channeling the feeling into moaning. Then you slipped a finger inside me and you learned that I say different words when I'm being penetrated. I think you wanted to hear more; your mouth worked me harder, and you pushed a second finger inside.

I came in your mouth, and around those fingers. It took us both by surprise, but you only made it more intense. My entire body came alive - there was back arching, more hair pulling, little moaning cries that you responded to with your mouth still full of me - and then I relaxed. I was so ready to have you inside me. I was ready, after seven years, to make love to you.

Let me make this clear: there is nothing about what you went through with that psychopath that turned me on. It woke me up, though. I refused a dinner invitation because an old flame of yours managed to warn me off. I said it before and I'll say it again - screw that advice. If I'm going to be a fool, I'll be a fool for you, not for a strange woman that sleeps with her students and wonders why she always ends up lonely.

After a few moments of recovery for both of us, I touched your shoulder, and I looked at you. I cajoled you gently with my legs to get you into position, and I wiped at the mess I'd made on your face so I could kiss you. I pulled you down on top of me, because you were hesitating for some reason. I lifted my hips off the bed to meet yours, just for a second, and while you responded by kissing my lips, something else was distracting you.

"You don't want me to...?" The question was all in your eyes. Protection might have been a good idea, considering some of the women I've had the displeasure of knowing you've been with. You're just so protective of me already (Did you really think I wouldn't find out what happened in the woods? _Really_?) I figured you'd have let me know then and there if there was anything we had to worry about other than getting me pregnant.

"You can't." I said in a whisper, because it is physically impossible to impregnate me. "I can't." I said, shaking my head in a way I thought might reassure you. Alarm bells went off in your head. You had this emotional panic in your expression, but before you could stop or change your mind or start to worry about me - about _me_, after the night you had? - I reached down and took hold of you in one hand, and I pulled on your hips with my other hand because this had nothing to do with the state of my reproductive organs. I just wanted to get you off. I wanted to make you happy. It was going to feel fantastic for me too and I wasn't worried anymore. _I wasn't worried._

Let's do a little voice and diction analysis, since I have some time to think about what we've done and I need to work through my embarrassment at the complete loss of control I experienced when you pushed into me for the first time.

_"Oh my fucking god..." _- Those words came straight from my...I mean, it _hurt_. In the best possible way.

_"Oh my fucking __**god**_..." - Because you were inside me, Cal. All the way, deep, deep inside.

A deep, soulful moan; sometimes there are no words. Just when I thought you couldn't get any deeper, you thrust a little harder and I feel the length of you. I realize it's going to take some getting used to, and we have _all. night._

Every few seconds the whole bed would rock, my body along with it. You like to take your time. You were feeling every second, every single sensation just like I was. I'm sure you could hear the strain in my voice. Every stray _fuck_ and _yes_ I shouted or muttered through my gritted teeth was for you.

_"Do it..."_ was what I uttered when I sensed you wanted to speed things up. The intensity of it - my permission and insistence - spurred you on.

Now I'll tell you what I didn't say out loud, the thing I kept thinking as I looked up at your face. There was this one thought echoing in my mind when you came inside of me. My body was shouting it, if you were paying attention. _You're mine. _Not even death is going to keep you from me. That, and I belong to you. No one's going to scare me away.

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><p>3.<p>

I'm laying here, watching you sleep now. You look peaceful. Exhausted, relieved...happy to be alive. I'm happy you're alive too.

How could a night begin like that, with you digging your own grave, and end like this? It was surreal, and if you wake up in the middle of the night, surprised to find me naked in your bed, I'll understand. If you wake up with a start, feeling like you're drowning, I'll understand. At least I'll be here to comfort you if it happens. And if you want to make love again, that would be fine too. Whatever I can do to make you feel better.

I want to believe I won't regret this in the morning. When I think about Helen's insistence that a life shared with you would never work, it only makes me want to try harder. You apparently have nine lives, Cal. I'm willing to live this next one with you. There's this feeling I get when I look at you now, the feeling that it will all work out. I have something Helen never had - I have faith in you. I understand your life's passion, and as crazy as it makes us sometimes, we'll always have each other to be crazy with together.

We'll go out for dinner tomorrow night.

And we'll never lecture at that university ever again.

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><p>4.<p>

I fell asleep about an hour later. I know I was asleep at some point, because I remember waking up, feeling your arm around my waist and your lips near my ear.

"I'm so glad you're here." you whispered, still half asleep.

You could have been dreaming of anyone.

"So glad you're here, Gill." you mumbled. And then we both fell back asleep.


End file.
